


The First-Time Variations

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Ficlet, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Vignette, it's all first time stuff you get the gist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's just fun to imagine all the different ways Hannibal and Will could experience their first time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sensory Overload

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these might be funny, some might be serious. It's all just Hannigram doin' the do for the first time, in some way or another, and some of those might be set in the first season or after TWOTL. Who knows?

Will isn’t quite sure how it happened, which is a shame because he would really like to remember it in great detail. He would like to tuck it away in case he should ever need the memory to keep him company.

Instead, there’s a smattering of images and sensations and sounds that he can’t quite put together. It’s like whatever happened between him and Hannibal set off a spark and exploded some essential part of his brain. Now these disconnected shards are all he has. A mouth here…a hand there…a loud moan…but whose? Hannibal’s? His own? A duet of the two?

“We’re going to have to do that again,” he says, noticing a ringing in his ears. His voice sounds so far away. “We’re going to have to do that again–-much more slowly.”

“I went blind for a moment,” Hannibal says.

“I’m just now getting my hearing back,” Will says.

“ _Much_ more slowly next time,” Hannibal agrees.

Will feels something something warm and wet low on his belly–warm but growing cool quite quickly– and he has to glance down to confirm that it isn’t blood. He also sees Hannibal sprawled half off the bed, still partly in his trousers, looking as dazed as he himself feels.

With heavy, clumsy arms, he tries to tug Hannibal up to lie down properly, but finds he can’t quite get his limbs to obey.

“Just give me a minute,” Will says.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hannibal mumbles. “I... can’t.”


	2. The Drunken Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wakes up with a hangover, and regret.

Hannibal woke with a pounding headache and an even more painful sense of regret. He looked down at his nude body, one ankle tangled in the sheets and the pillows all askew. Despite the heavy scent of sex lingering in the air, he was alone in the bed; the other side wasn’t even warm.

He remembered he had been drunk on cheap whiskey, drinking all night with Will as they sat up talking as they once did. Somehow, their discussion had turned to love, and lust, and there had been a recitation of his [favorite sonnet](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.poetryfoundation.org%2Fpoems-and-poets%2Fpoems%2Fdetail%2F44106&t=M2Q2OThlY2RkMDJkZGYyMDA3MDAzYTg5N2RjZmM5YzU1ZTk2NjYyMCxWek9XSkVxUQ%3D%3D) while Will looked upon him with passion-glazed eyes.

_These_ were not the things he regretted–far from it. He would have treasured these memories, if not for the one that came directly after it.

He pulled the sheet around his body and half stumbled down the hall towards Will’s bedroom door.

“We need to talk,” he said, bracing himself for Will’s refusal, or, worse, his silence.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Will called out from down the hall. “I’m about to start some biscuits!”

Hannibal went to him, near tears, ready to beg his forgiveness, though not ready to meet his eyes. “Please, please, after everything we’ve been through,” he said. “Will, I’m so sorry.”

Will took him by the shoulders and made him meet his eyes. “Hey. What are you sorry about?”

“I’m sorry I forced myself on you,” Hannibal said.

Will snorted. “When was that?”

“After I recited John Donne’s Holy Sonnet,” Hannibal said. “The way you looked at me…I thought you wanted me, but now, in the harsh light of sobriety, I recall you just lay there beneath me, unresponsive and cold. Our first time together, and I ruined it!”

Will guided him to the nearest chair and had him sit down.

“Okay first of all,” Will began, “you didn’t recite any John Donne.”

Hannibal blinked up at him. “I didn’t?”

“No, you said it was the dirtiest Lithuanian poem you knew of,” Will said, “and you laughed so hard you almost choked on your whiskey.”

“But–”

“I tucked you into bed after that,” Will said. “I covered you with my robe and went to sleep in my own bedroom.”

Hannibal went over the events of the night before. The grasping, the shameless rutting, the seemingly endless orgasm that tore through him… And of course, Will’s indifference… 

“I _distinctly_ remember our coupling, Will.”

With a frown, Will took him by the hand and led him back to the bedroom. It didn’t take long for them to find Will’s robe on the floor, rather disheveled and torn at the sleeve.

Will picked it up and sniffed. “I think you fucked my robe,” he said, turning it this way and that for a thorough inspection. “It’s…it’s pretty much covered in dried spunk from the belt down. Good God, Hannibal, on both sides and inside, too! It’s just…  _so much_.”

"It’s been a very long wait,” Hannibal said, feeling a rare blush creep into his cheeks.

Will was still gawking at the robe. “I mean, you’re a one-man bukkake scene!“

Hannibal snatched the robe from him. "I’ll buy you a new one right away.”

Will was laughing, and then he was draping his arms around Hannibal’s neck and kissing the side of his face. “I promise you, you’ll remember it much differently when it happens for real.”

Hannibal leaned into the kisses. “Oh?”

“For one thing, I won’t just be lying there unresponsively,” Will said. “And for another, there’s probably going to be a huge, huge stack of towels next to the bed…”


	3. Inadvertently Seductive Cargo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's new fashion sense drives Will a little mad.

Will knew (and had known for a while now) that his bond with Hannibal was as deep and inescapable as the gravity that trapped twin stars in orbit together. He knew that he wanted to be with Hannibal, in life or in death, and that was why he had both thrown them off the bluff and why he'd subsequently pulled them both out of the sea.

He wanted to travel with Hannibal, to argue with him and rail against him, and cook with him, and yes, perhaps eventually hunt with him. He wanted to read books with and to Hannibal. He wanted to listen to Hannibal compose music he didn't even like. He knew he was in love with Hannibal, even if it paled as a phrase to describe their reality.

What he didn't know until today, with all the clarity of a punch to the face, was that he really, _really_ wanted to suck Hannibal's dick.

It wasn't a poem or a deep philosophical discussion that made him come to this realization. It wasn't a weighted glance or a lingering touch. No, it was seeing Hannibal wearing, of all things, a pair of cargo pants.

And not just cargo pants, but _cheap_ ones! They were from the clearance rack at Old Navy. There was something about seeing Hannibal _in_ $12 pants that made Will want to see him _out_ of them.

Will eventually became aware that he was staring at Hannibal--specifically at his hips and crotch--and forced himself to look up.

"What do you think of my disguise?" Hannibal asked.

He gestured at the ground, and that's when Will saw the bright orange flipflops on Hannibal's feet.

"Sweet mother of God," Will said, adjusting the way he stood to give his sudden erection a bit of breathing room.

They were still in the mall, for crying out loud. They had split up for an hour to put together travel essentials, so they could hit the road with some degree of anonymity. They were trying to _avoid_ drawing attention to themselves, so Will knew it would definitely be a terrible idea to drag Hannibal into the nearest restroom.

And yet, that's exactly what he did.

"I don't think this is wise," Hannibal said even as he was closing the stall door behind them.

"Just...try to keep it quiet," Will said.

He grabbed all of Hannibal's shopping bags and hung them up on the hook, then turned his attention to those glorious cotton canvas pants. 

With stumbling fingers, he managed to get the button undone, but progress halted when he got to the zipper.

"Fuck it, I think it's stuck," he whispered. He yanked and the zipper pull broke off in his hands. "Damn it!No wonder they were on sale!"

Hannibal started to button himself up again. "When we get home, I'll find the pliers and--"

"No time," Will said.

He pulled his pocket knife from his jacket and freed the blade from its casing with a flick of his thumb. The dangerously sharp edge glinted under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Oh, _Will_ ," Hannibal breathed.

"I'll be careful," Will promised.

"No, don't," Hannibal said, grabbing his wrist and forcing the knife down to the zipper. 

"Suck in your gut," Will said.

Hannibal scoffed. "I do _not_ have a gut."

Will ignored that and grabbed a handful of the waistband, pulling it as far away from Hannibal's belly as he could before he slashed through the fabric. A small nick was all he needed, and then he tore the fabric the rest of the way with his bare hands. The sound of the cloth ripping echoed off the tile walls.

It was all he could do to fold up the knife again and put it away before dropping to his knees. 

He had a moment of indecision, wondering how he should start. For all the times he'd gotten head from women, and for all his empathy, he wasn't sure he'd ever really taken note of the technique from their point of view. How did they keep from gagging? How did they so expertly manage to keep their teeth off him? Should he have Hannibal come in his mouth? Should he swallow? He wasn't sure he was up for that. But what was the alternative? Grab a handful of toilet paper? Pull off just in time and aim Hannibal’s penis elsewhere like a fleshy garden hose?

"Ah, fuck it," he said under his breath, and reached into Hannibal's underwear. He decided he would just wing it as best he could.

He had seen Hannibal naked, of course, weeks ago when they were laid up and healing and helping each other with their respective wounds. He'd been intrigued, even appreciative of what he'd seen, but this was the first time he'd been eye to eye, so to speak, with this part of Hannibal's rather impressive anatomy. He wasn't at all sure how it was supposed to fit in his mouth, honestly.

But he tried his damnedest, and he only gagged a little bit when he got overambitious, and Hannibal didn't seem to mind at all when he sucked out of sync a few times and scraped (lightly!) the underside of that velvety foreskin with his bottom front teeth.

"Will," Hannibal started to say in a strangled groan. "Will, I'm--"

He felt Hannibal's thighs tense and tremble under his hands, and decided that for this first time, at least, he really wanted to see Hannibal come, but his movements were ill-timed and the trajectory of the ejaculate somewhat unpredictable, and most of it ended up in his left eye before he could even see its launch.

"Oh, oh, _fuck_ ," he said as he reached up reflexively to wipe his eye with the cuff of his sleeve. " _Ow_."

Hannibal pulled him to his feet and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to clean him off. "I tried to warn you!"

"I wanted to see it! I've never blown a guy before and I kind of wanted to see how I did!"

"You did very well," Hannibal assured him. "But you'll have to go buy me another pair of these cargo pants. I don't think I can walk out of here like this without attracting undue attention."

Will looked down (with his one good eye) and saw Hannibal's pants in tatters around his ankles.

"All right," he agreed, "but maybe not from the clearance rack this time."


	4. The Drunken Encounter (Will's Turn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wendigo pays Will a visit. Sort of.

Will woke with pain in more places than he was expecting. Over the last 10 or so days, he'd grown accustomed to the dull ache in his healing cheek, the throb just under his shoulder where Dolarhyde had stabbed him, and in all the various body parts that had been bruised in the watery crash with Hannibal. But now... _now_ there was also a soreness in his hip bones, fingers and, most worryingly, in his dick and balls.

He threw back the blanket and looked down at his naked body. Had he been naked when he went to sleep? He was pretty sure he at least had boxer shorts on.

"Hannibal?" he croaked out.

Silence answered him.

The room was too bright. His head throbbed, too, but that wasn't too unusual. He vaguely remembered taking the pain pills Hannibal had given him, with a few ill-advised swigs of whiskey to wash them down.

He squinted in the light and saw that the skin of his penis looked red and irritated. He squinted more and saw a few scratches, along with a crust of dried semen.

"What the fuck?"

Suddenly, a flood of images came back to him. The antlers...the dark almost metallic skin...the hard, unforgiving body... The Wendigo had paid him a visit in his dreams.

Okay, but dreams wouldn't explain the physical injuries, would they? Will could come to only one conclusion:

"Oh, fuck. I had sex with Hannibal."

His pill-and-whiskey-addled mind had simply filled in the imagery from his past visions.

He found his shorts on the floor and put them on before stumbling out into the rest of the house.

"Hannibal?" he called out again.

He heard snoring coming from the kitchen and found Hannibal slumped over at the table, having apparently passed out halfway through changing his bandages.

Will felt a wash of shame come over him. He'd been so rough with Hannibal that his stitches had opened again.

"Wake up," he said, softly shaking Hannibal's shoulder.

Hannibal woke with a start, drool dripping from one corner of his mouth. His eyes were small from sleep and his hair lay plastered over his forehead.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened last night," Will said. "I mean, I've wanted to for a while now, for longer than I'd like to admit, but I was hoping we'd be in better shape for it."

Hannibal blinked up at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The sex," Will said. "The sex that you...and I...had...with each other."

Hannibal frowned. "We didn't."

Now it was Will's turn to blink in confusion. "No, I definitely remember it, Hannibal. I have the scratches to prove it."

He described the bits that he could remember.

"Antlers?" Hannibal asked. "Come with me."

Will followed him into the study and stopped cold in his tracks when he saw it. "Oh, God. No. No, that's not... I couldn't have done it with...I mean, THIS thing?!"

 

  


 

"You _were_ in quite a state last night," Hannibal said.

"I wasn't in a state to hump a taxidermied deer, Hannibal!" Will practically shouted. Then, much more quietly, pleadingly, " _Was_ I?"

The antlers flashed again in his memory, as if answering him.

Will wailed in agony. "Oh Jesus! I'm a fucking pervert! It's not just bestiality, but necrophilia, too!"

Hannibal went over to the deer in question and gave it a thorough going-over.

Will held his face in his hands, almost afraid to look. "Hannibal, did I face-fuck a dead deer or not? Did I fuck any part of a dead deer?"

"If you did," Hannibal said, "you didn't leave any evidence behind."

Suddenly, another memory flashed in his mind's eye: a bit of plaid wound around the Wendigo's impossibly slender neck.

"You were wearing a scarf," Will said. "I mean, he--it--the thing in my dream was wearing that plaid scarf we found when we got here!"

Without waiting for Hannibal, Will raced (well, as much as he could, considering) into the living room. There was the scarf in question, draped on the coat rack near the door.

The black...metallic... coat rack.

 

  


 

"Oh my God," he groaned.

Now it all came back to him. Stumbling in a haze into the living room, looking for Hannibal, looking for relief, he had found the scarf and the coat rack. Unable to accept the fact that he was dry-humping an inanimate metal pole, his mind had kindly filled in a few erotic details as best as it could.

By now, Hannibal had joined him and was looking over the scarf. "Here's the evidence," he said, holding up the besmirched accessory. Sounding surprisingly shy, Hannibal asked, "Were you looking for me at the time?" 

"Ah, yes," Will said. "I thought I'd found you. I thought I'd been a bit rough and that's why you were bandaging yourself again."

"Oh, this," Hannibal said, patting the wrap around his belly. "No, I overextended myself reaching into the cupboard for some preserves. Midnight snack. I was trying to hide the injury from you, but blacked out at the table."

"You're only admitting that to me now because my own admission is so much more embarrassing, right?" Will asked.

Hannibal didn't bother hiding the small, pleased smile. "That deer _and_ that coat rack have now taken up permanent residence in my memory palace."

"Oh my God," Will groaned again. 

He wished the earth would open beneath him and swallow him whole, but if the ocean refused to do it, what were the chances that anything else would?


	5. First Time in the Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will handle their first post-coital chat very differently.

"I knew our intimacy was inevitable, Will, but I never dared imagine the precise details, as I wished to be surprised in every way."

"Tell me, Hannibal. _When_ was the moment you knew this was inevitable?"

"Not long after we met."

"How long?"

"Five or six... seconds."

"Oh, you did not."

"Well, perhaps that's when I knew I _hoped_ it was inevitable."

"Hm."

"And you?"

"I don't remember the exact day, or the _precise_ moment, but I happened to look at you, and maybe the lighting was just right, but looking at you, it suddenly struck me."

"That you wanted me? Loved me?"

"Oh, no. No, it struck me that if you averaged us together, we'd have one pair of normal eyebrows."

"...Will."

"Seriously, I think I had thicker eyebrows when I was born than--"

“ _Will!_ ”

"What?"

"You are the _worst_ at pillow talk."

"I can't help it! You were being so serious!"

"The absolute _worst_."


	6. Decorated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal goes a little overboard with an erotic tableau.

When Hannibal disappeared into his bedroom with an armful of bags and forbade him to enter until everything was ready, Will knew he was doing something "special" for their first time together.

What Will hadn't planned on--and really _couldn't_ have planned on--was the sheer scope of the erotic tableau that awaited him.

"Wow," Will said, laying eyes upon the scene at last. "I mean...just... _wow_."

Hannibal had arranged himself in the middle of the bed, completely nude as far as Will could tell, while surrounding himself with trinkets, decor, and assorted mementos. There were animal skulls on the pillows, garlands of flowers draped like bunting along the sides of the bed, a wreath made of ginger hanging from the headboard...

"Are those...radicchio leaves?" Will asked, nodding at the leafy purple salad currently festooning Hannibal's crotch.

"Everything on this bed has special significance in our shared history," Hannibal said.

It looked like the carefully amassed collection of a giant, demented crow.

"I was just expecting candles or something," Will said. "You really went all out."

Hannibal frowned. "You don't care for it. I can tell."

Will flailed a bit, gesturing at the bed. "It's just... Hannibal, there's no room for _me_ in there."

"Of course there is," Hannibal said. "Right here, under the arch made of clocks."

“But--”

"Just be careful getting in or you'll crush the origami hearts."

"Hanni--"

"And grab that decanter of lubricant off the bureau there, please," Hannibal said.

Will looked where Hannibal had indicated. "Is...is that thing shaped like a bird?"

"I tried to find one shaped like an ortolan," Hannibal said, "but I'm afraid a generic bird was the best Etsy and I could do on such short notice."

"All right that's it," Will said. He reached across the half-acre of decorative detritus for Hannibal's hand. "Get up. Up up up. Come on."

"My tableau!" Hannibal protested as he was pulled to his feet.

"Hannibal, fuck the tableau," Will said. "Or, rather, no. Fucking the tableau is precisely what I don't want to do. I just want you. I don't want to have to be mindful of the garlands and origami! I want to lose my fucking mind with you!"

"I wanted to make it special," Hannibal said.

"It's special because it's us," Will said. "We could do it in a gas station men's room and it would be seared into my memory for the rest of my life. In fact, there were a few times when we were on the run that I thought about it."

Hannibal allowed himself to be pulled close enough for a loose embrace. "Oh?"

"The only thing that stopped me was the blinding pain I was in."

"...Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Will said. He rubbed Hannibal's back and downward to give his ass a squeeze. "Now, what do you say we get ourselves to the spare bedroom and try it without all the extras?"

"Well. If you insist," Hannibal said.

Will took him by the hand and pulled him toward the door. "Oh, and don't forget the Etsy bird," he said.

 

 

\---

 

Visual aids:

 

  


 

 

  


 


	7. A Flimsy Excuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe their first time together happened in Season 1. Maybe the author came up with a really flimsy excuse to make it happen.

Will knew Hannibal Lecter was his friend.

It was why he'd driven him to the hospital instead of letting a stranger take him, and why he'd stayed with him through the exam and suturing. It was why he'd pressed upon Jack that any other questions about Tobias Budge could wait for morning, and it was why he'd drawn Hannibal's arm over his shoulders and helped him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Hannibal was his friend, Will knew.

It was why, when Hannibal weaved unsteadily on his feet, Will knelt down on the floor to untie his shoes for him. It was why he almost fell backwards onto his ass when Hannibal pulled down his pants and suddenly there was an erect penis mere inches from his face.

"Um," was all Will managed to say at that exact moment.

"Forgive me," Hannibal said. "I undressed for the exam and must have neglected my undergarments when I dressed again."

"Sure, yeah," Will said, and realized he was still staring.

He also realized Hannibal wasn't making an effort to cover himself back up.

Hannibal was his friend, Will knew, and wasn't it _kind_ of normal to wonder what a friend looked like downstairs? It was like taking notice of your buddy's dong in the school showers. He just kind of wanted to know what other guys looked like, you know, in comparison to himself. That was a normal friend thing, right?

 _Right_.

But then at some point, he became aware that he'd taken that fat pink dick into his mouth far enough to bury his nose in said friend's pubic hair, and he had to admit to himself that _might_ not have been a just-friends thing to do. 

In perhaps an even _less_ platonic development, he sucked that dick until it rewarded him with a slick, hot load all over his tongue and palate. As he swallowed and licked his lips, he began to wonder if he might have some erotic feelings towards Hannibal.

He got shakily to his feet and glanced at Hannibal just long enough to see the dazed expression on his face.

Will took a few steps back towards the door. "Well, I'd better get home and let the dogs out,"  he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s been a long day.”

"Of course," Hannibal said after clearing his throat. "Thank you again, Will. For the hospital. And everything else."

"Oh, sure," Will said. "I mean, what are friends for?"


	8. The Mongoose Becomes the Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's brain isn't the only unusual facet of his anatomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @chronicopheliac for sending me the picture that inspired the season 1 Hannigram that follows.  
> I'm warning you. This might be some of the crackiest damn crack I've ever written.

 

Faced with the prospect of sharing not only a motel room but a bed with his friend and psychiatrist because the FBI was too cheap for anything else, Will decided it was time to come clean.

"There's something you don't know about me," he said, gaze fixed steadfastly on that lone bed.

"I'm sure there are many things I don't know about you," Dr. Lecter said, his tone lightly teasing.

"It's about my...sleeping habits," Will said, chickening out at the last second.

"Are you an insomniac?" Dr. Lecter asked.

"Sometimes, yes," Will said, "but this is something worse."

"Oh?"

"It could affect the way you look at me," Will said. "It could affect our friendship."

He dared look up for a moment and saw Lecter smiling warmly at him.

"If you talk in your sleep," Lecter said with that same teasing note, "I promise not to take anything you say about me too personally."

Will gave a weak laugh, cursing himself for losing his nerve.

Things only got worse half an hour later, when Lecter emerged from the bathroom ready for bed, wearing surprisingly bright purple long johns.

"Um, wow," Will managed to say. "I guess I was expecting tailored pajamas or something."

"I checked the weather forecast before I packed," Lecter said. "I thought it best to dress warmly for the nights we're here."

Will nodded, suddenly mute. He'd known, of course, that Dr. Lecter was quite a good-looking man, and he certainly cut a dashing figure in his three-piece suits. But the long johns were something else entirely. The way the thermal fabric lightly clung to his frame, showing both the shape of the firm muscle and softness all at once...it was almost obscene.

He groaned inwardly when Lecter turned around to pack away his toiletries, and cursed himself. Of course the long johns just HAD to have a buttflap, and of COURSE it did nothing to hide the shape of the butt beneath.

"Please mind your manners," he said to himself. "Please don't embarrass me this time."

He crawled into bed beside Dr. Lecter.

"You're not taking off your jeans?" Lecter asked.

"It's better this way," Will said. "Trust me."

 

***************

 

_He thought jeans would stop me? It's just denim, for crying out loud. It's not like he put me in jail!_

_Sometimes I can't believe I'm saddled with this sad sack. He never wants to act on his desires, leaves it all to me._

_Well, here we go._

_Again._

 

***************

 

Hannibal woke to the sound of a zipper being undone behind him. Naturally, his first thought was that Will had wisely decided to shed his jeans, as uncomfortable as they must have been to sleep in. But as he waited, he could sense no other movement, and Will's slow, even breathing announced that he was soundly asleep.

Next he heard a faint rustle of fabric, followed by the softest thud of something fleshy against the bed.

Whatever it was then proceeded to caress its way between his thighs, slowly roving up to the flap of his long johns.

Hannibal concentrated on the sensation. The tip of whatever it was...was too blunt to be one of Will Graham's fingers. Even if he were acting out something in his sleep, he wasn't doing so with his fingers.

It found its way to first one button and then the next before pulling the flap away from his skin.

When he felt it pressing into the cleft of his buttocks, a sense of familiarity came to him and he suddenly knew what it was.

As much as he was tempted to lie there and let it explore as it wanted, Hannibal knew he could not.

"Will," he said. Then, louder, to wake him: "Will, your penis is undressing me."

 

**********

 

Will's eyes snapped open and he rolled out of the bed so quickly he almost lost his balance.

"Oh God, oh fuck, I'm so sorry!"

His hands went instinctively to the traitorous member jutting from his body at full length. He attempted to jam it back through the open fly of his jeans, but it was too erect. He grabbed a pillow and covered his perverted penis as a flush of shame burned from his chest to his face.

"I assume this is what you were trying to tell me last night," Dr. Lecter said. He sat on the edge of the bed, making no move to button himself back up, nor to hide his own erection, plainly obvious through the long johns.

"I--my penis has a mind of its own," Will blurted out. "When I'm attracted to someone and I don't do anything about it, it kind of takes over and does something for me."

"It has remarkable dexterity," Lecter said. "Almost like a snake."

Will's flush burned even hotter. "It must really like you," he laughed weakly. "I mean, I really like you."

"I'm not technically your psychiatrist," Lecter reminded him. "It wouldn't be too unethnical to act on your feelings--our feelings."

Lecter tugged the pillow out of his hands and slid down onto his knees.

 

*********

 

_And that, boys and girls, is how I got introduced to the inside of Hannibal Lecter's mouth._

_We became very good friends after that, and I never had to sneak around on my own ever again._

 

 

  


 


	9. Doing the Dark Deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure darkness.
> 
> Sort of.

 

Will lies in the narrow berth, legs tangled up with Hannibal's arms, and fights to catch his breath.

"I don't think," he says between pants, "that should count as our first time."

"Why not?" Hannibal asks. He shifts around and his foot inadvertently connects with Will's head.

"Ow! _That's_ why," Will says, flapping his hand around until it clasps Hannibal's ankle and then shoves it away. "I couldn't even _see_ you."

"You're the one who broke the lantern in your haste to get me into bed," Hannibal reminds him.

" _You're_ the one who insisted we come down here," Will reminds him right back. "We could have done it on the deck and had a bit of moonlight through the clouds, but no-o-o."

"The deck is very hard on my back, Will. I still have considerable healing to do."

Will knows Hannibal is making a haughty face even if he can't see it in the almost perfect darkness.

Hannibal shifts around again, and this time his foot with its toenails in need of trimming scrape across his chest.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Will hisses, slapping at the offending foot and missing. "Would you at least _come up here_ so you stop kicking the shit out of me? Or are you doing that on purpose?"

Now Will can feel him glaring. 

"I assure you, Will. I didn't wait five years to consummate our romance just to kick you afterwards."

Will rolls his eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Hannibal asks.

"Just get up here," Will says again.

After much crawling and jockeying for position and knees knocking together, they both manage to face the same direction, lying on their sides to make room for each other on the skinny mattress.

"Well, that's better at least," Will says, although he's starting to notice how sticky he is now that he's cooled off and caught his breath. "At least I'm not talking to your feet now."

Hannibal laughs softly, his breath warm against his skin. "Perhaps it was overly ambitious of us--that position for coitus in such darkness."

"I didn't intend to _start_ with sixty-nining," Will says. "That's just kind of how we fell onto each other after the lantern broke."

"After _you_ broke the lantern," Hannibal reminds him.

Will sighs, as fond as he is exasperated. "Just shut up and get some sleep. We're going to have a proper first time as soon as the sun is up."


	10. Fisting's First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has some anxiety about Hannibal's sexy plans.

Will read over Hannibal's text one more time, just to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

_Looking forward to tonight. Fisting's first._

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and tucked his phone into his pocket. Well, he'd definitely read it correctly. There was no mistaking Hannibal's intent.

His first time in bed with Hannibal and he was going to get a fist shoved up his ass.

*****

Will opened his laptop and wondered where he should even start. He knew about fisting from a conceptual perspective, more or less, but had never experienced it in practice--from neither nor the giving or receiving ends.

He typed "two men fisting" into the search bar and felt his butthole clench up at the images that popped up in the results. He felt as if ice water had been dumped into his bowels. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Did he need to partake of an enema first? Did he even have enema stuff in the house? What even _was_ enema stuff?

Or maybe Hannibal wanted Will to fist _him_? Will looked down at his right hand consideringly, and curled his fingers. Should he wear a latex glove? Some of the guys in the images had on gloves. What if the glove got lost up Hannibal's butt, though? There was so much lubricant involved...

Will clicked on a video link.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he breathed. 

He hoped choppy editing was at fault, and that the guy with the ham-sized hands hadn't just plunged forearm-deep into his partner with no preparation.

As he watched in shock, the man added his other hand into the mix.

Will silently closed his laptop and went to pour himself a tumbler of whiskey.

********

When Hannibal got home, Will didn't waste time with a greeting.

"I don't think I'm up for anything that adventurous," he said. "Not--not for our first time, Hannibal! Honestly, I've only ever had like two fingers up there and she had _really_ small hands."

Hannibal blinked at him and set the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

"Isn't it the kind of thing you work up to?" Will went on, rubbing a hand over his derriere self-consciously.

"Will, what is this all about?" Hannibal asked. "If you're having second thoughts..."

Will watched as Hannibal took a large can of coconut cream out of one of the bags. "Is that...for the _thing_...tonight?" he asked. He recalled seeing a lot of creamy white lubricant involved in those fisting videos. Maybe it had been coconut cream.

"It's a vital ingredient," Hannibal said, “along with lemongrass.”

“Lemongrass!” Will wailed. “Coconut cream I can understand, but _lemongrass_!”

"Will, why are you pacing?"

Will stopped and faced Hannibal. "Look, I would be _more_ than happy to have your dick up in me, but I'm not ready for your whole fist! Your hands are so big!"

Hannibal dropped a bag of onions on the floor.

Off Hannibal's obviously shocked reaction, a thought suddenly occurred to Will. He pulled out his phone and showed Hannibal the text.

"Is...is that what you meant to type?" Will asked, feeling more than a little bashful.

"Damned autocorrect," Hannibal sighed, shutting his eyes as if praying for patience. "Will, it's supposed to say 'first thing's first,' not ‘fisting’s first.’ Meaning I want to prepare a seafood coconut curry for you tonight, before we indulge in any other activities."

"So you don't want to..." Will made a vigorous corkscrew gesture with his fist. "...with me?"

"Not tonight, at any rate," Hannibal said. "Not ever, if it doesn't interest you. Truthfully, I could content myself with merely kissing you for the rest of our lives."

"Wow, that's sappy as hell," Will said.

"And no coconut cream need be involved," Hannibal said.

" _Wellll_ ," Will drawled. "I wouldn't mind if a _little_ were involved..."


End file.
